Dae'Uhl
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Never was this demonstrated better in the Kalath Intercession and the subsequent formation of the Dae'Uhl, where the protoss went from one extreme to another.


_I haven't been that big on oneshots at this point in time, but since Loomings is hardly something that presses continuation given the wide discrepency between hits and reviews. I'm tempted to put it on hiatus, considering that it's not the only fully drafted StarCraft fic I have; does the word "Spectre" mean anything? ;)_

_Still, as for this oneshot itself. At this point in time the StarCraft universe has six, possibly seven sentient races depending on your POV. Terrans, zerg and protoss have been fully fleshed out, the mysteries of the Xel'Naga are slowly being revealed, the hybrids (Duran's hybrids, I'm reluctant to classify the 'phoenix hybrid' as a seperate race) are an anathema and we know next to nothing about the kalathi. It's even nebulous whether they even exist anymore. Still, I hope that they'll someday be fleshed out; Metzen took the first step in the lore interview on sclegacy, so why not another? Besides, it'll be nice to have a race in addition to humans that doesn't have a link with the Xel'Naga._

_Anyway, here's a oneshot that conveys the backstory of the Kalathi Intercession and the formation of the Dae'Uhl, using canon characters as usual. Um, enjoy._

_Disclaimer: Blizzard owns StarCraft and all its characters._

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**Dae'Uhl**

**Golden Age of Expansion (relative date 1956)**

**Carrier **_**Gelaris**_

**High Orbit over Kalath**

Kalath was burning.

A few years ago, Judicator Aldaris would have denied that this would have bothered him in the slightest. Stars lived and died and their planets with them. Sometimes a world would end with a bang, other times with a whimper. Once, long ago, this may have been considered a tragedy, but the Khala, or the "Path of Ascension", called for those who followed it to face the facts of life. After all, had not such denial sent the protoss, or "Firstborn", at each other's throats, wanting to blame their counterpart tribes for the departure of the Ihan-rii? Planets lived and died and sometimes the life on them as well. In the wake of the Aeon of Strife, despite having ended half a millennia ago, one more world being devastated seemed insignificant.

But this…

"I'm here," came a voice. Turning with the grace of one who had seen a mere two centuries, Aldaris faced the visitor.

"Demioch," he murmured, with a nod, his robes billowing slightly in the wake of his psionic prowess.

"Judicator," came the response, the Executor's voice laden with formality. The Khala called for it. The Judicators and Templar had very different roles in the caste system that Khas had divised, being the governors and warriors of the Firstborn respectively, but it was a symbiotic relationship, just as much as it was with the worker caste of the Khalai. None could exist without the other, as per the edicts of the Khala. All were one. One was all.

Not that there weren't differences between protoss, far from it. Aldaris and Demioch, separated by age and position, were testament. Whereas the Judicator had amber eyes and light grey skin, the Executor possessed sky blue eyes with complexion of deepest sea. It was odd in a way how Demioch managed to look younger than Aldaris yet was around a century older. In a lesser society jealousey may have become an issue. Still, being the most powerful race the galaxy had ever seen, only short of the Xel'Naga themselves, the protoss didn't have to worry about petty strife.

Unlike the kalathi…

"These are for you," said Aldaris simply, handing Demioch a roll of parchments. Undoing it Demioch glanced over them, his eyes narrowing.

"We're sealing the Colossi?" Demioch asked slowly.

"As per the will of the Conclave," answered Aldaris, turning back to face the burning world beneath him. "Our ships are leaving Kalath, Executor, and I'm sure you know why. The Colossi are a blemish on our history and will be dealt with appropriately."

"Oh I see," Demioch snarled, flexing his right two thumbed, two fingered hand into a fist. "We casually commit murdur and walk away from the corpse." Psionic energy began to crackle around him, a sign of the rage consuming his spirit. "I'm sure that Khas would be _so_ proud of us, especially since-…"

"If the kalathi are too primitive to understand what's good for them, then that is none of our concern!" Aldaris shouted, stepping forward as psionic energy of his own crackled around him. "They were primitive savages whose loss, while regrettable, means nothing in the greater scheme of things!"

"And by whose standards is that assessment?" asked Demioch quietly.

Both protoss lapsed into silence, though even behind his mental shields, the Judicator's guilt was felt by Demioch. It had been his expedition that had discovered the world of Kalath, its inhabitants caught up in a civil war that while a mere shadow of the Aeon of Strife, was still enough to stir the memories of the Firstborn. Seeking to stem the flow of violence, to ensure that the kalathi did not experience the same pain that the protoss had. Despite their good intentions, the protoss had been greeted with hostility, the kalathi tribes banding together to attack the alien 'invaders.' Ironic that such a visit had brought Kalath's inhabitants together, albeit for the wrong reasons.

The protoss had defended themselves of course, doing so rather spectacularly. Psyblades cleaving flesh from bone, phase disruptors incinerating kalathi warriors with every hit. It was the Colossi who had truly stood out however, the tripod walkers incinerating scores of kalathi with every sweep, trampling on the bodies of their foes, their blood feeding the soil. As the protoss had evacuated the world the fleet, as per the orders of Aldaris, had bombarded the planet to cover their escape, in case the kalathi somehow shoot the shuttles down.

The results were rather spectacular. And messy.

"How did it feel Aldaris?" Demioch whispered.

"Stop it."

"Watching down on a burning world, a gift from a mighty civilisation," Demioch continued. "All per your orders of course."

"Stop it!" the Judicator shouted, his psionic waves laced with pain and guilt.

"Giving the order for the bombardment to begin," the Executor whispered. "You must have felt like a _god_."

"Is there a reason to this!?" the Judicator shouted.

Demioch nodded slowly, clearly amused. "Unlike your recent actions, there is." He took another parchment out of his robes and unfurled it. "The Dae'Uhl, otherwise known as the "Great Stewardship." How sanctimonious is that?" He gave out a psionic snort before looking towards his superior. "Does this mean anything to you?"

Aldaris nodded slowly, having seemingly aged a few more centuries within minutes. "A declaration of the Conclave that we protect the lesser races, to ensure that we never have a repeat of Kalath." He managed to meet Demioch's gaze. "All with the best of intentions of course."

"Oh please!" Demioch exclaimed, throwing down the scroll in rage. "Don't confuse altruism with guilt!"

Aldaris, despite his position, recoiled. "Pardon?"

"Have you learnt nothing from this!?" Demioch exclaimed. "We've gone from one extreme to the other! Instead of reacting with fear to other species we've gone to making ourselves overseers! What if a situation occurs where the stewardship works to our detriment!?"

"We're the most powerful race in the galaxy," said Aldaris simply.

"And under what basis is that?" Demioch asked. Aldaris didn't answer so he continued.

"Don't you see Judicator?" the Executor asked softly. "Neither fear nor the Dae'Uhl gives us flexability. Sooner or later we'll come across a situation where neither approach works and we'll end up dealing with the effects."

"And you would propose otherwise?" Aldaris snarled. "You would integrate the risk of change into our society, risk falling back into strife?"

"It's the lesser of the two."

Aldaris remained impassive before turning back to look down at the world. "That's your poragative Executor. But for now, the will of the Conclave stands and I see no reason to change it."

"Of course not," said Demioch bitterly. "You're too busy washing blood off your hands to bother."

"That was a dismissal, _sub-commander_," Aldaris snarled, the emphasis on the demotion not going unnoticed. "Leave. Now."

Demioch sighed, putting the parchments back in his robes. "As the Khala wills."

Demioch's mind whirled with rage as he departed from the bridge, not knowing nor caring if the imbecile with the blood of millions of innocents on his hands could sense them. Later generations would make justification of the incident, how the kalathi had made an unprovoked attack, how the protoss had to defend themselves. No doubt that they would also claim how it was not a total loss, how it had led to the Dae'Uhl. Their "stewardship." One extreme to the other as the case was.

Was this the kind of society that Edullon was going to grow up in?

Demioch sighed, turning back to face the Judicator, still gazing down on his handiwork. His toughts were closed off to him, but Demioch suspected what they were. Shame. Guilt. Disgust. Fear…All of which prompted his final words on this day.

"Flee from reality all you want Aldaris. It'll catch up to you someday."


End file.
